Prologue
“AGNES. I’ve met the one I’m meant to be with. I’m going to have to break off our engagement.”
Agnes Lefort felt her heart sink as she stared at the young man who’d just declared this in a booming voice.
They were at a glamorous ball held by the royal family.
Why was he bringing up such delicate, personal matters and causing a scene on an occasion like this? With so many royals and aristocracy in attendance?
Philip wasn’t in the direct line of succession to the throne, true. But, as the king’s nephew, he was still a fine catch. But Agnes hadn’t realized until now just how stupid he really was.
She knew he was naïve and foolish, sure. But she’d credited him with some brains, at least. That’d been her mistake.
Her hitherto-betrothed himself, Philip Visage, stood resplendent in front of her. He was dressed in a distinguished red frock coat that seemed to have been specially chosen to highlight his importance and consequent arrogance.
A girl was clinging to one of his arms, eyes sparkling wetly with devotion.
Oh, so that’s Philip’s type, is it? Cutesy-cute girls?
Agnes’s bright-pink, peach blossom-colored hair was tied up in a pristine coil, with nary a stray hair to be seen. She wore no hair accessories.
Her dress was amber-hued, with barely any embellishments or adornments. It was, all told, quite plain.
The girl clinging to Philip, however, had golden-brown hair in loose curls and wore a blue, lace-covered hair ribbon that shook whenever she moved her head. She wore a dress in a matching shade of blue, adorned with more bows and lace. Her hairstyle was much simpler and less intricate than Agnes’s but, with its adornments, was eye-catching.
The two couldn’t have been less alike. A chasm of difference lay between them. And, apparently, Philip’s tastes clearly lay on the side Agnes wasn’t on.
She stared at the girl’s golden-brown curls. Noticing her gaze, the girl took a step back, huddling behind Philip.
How ludicrous!
The girl was acting like Agnes was some sort of evil witch, intent on keeping her and Philip apart.
“The person you’re meant to be with, eh?”
“Yes. I’ve found my other half. My Dragonmate. The one.”
Philip puffed out his chest and spoke these words with pride. It seemed he hadn’t noticed the look of distaste on Agnes’s face.
It was said that the royal family had dragon’s blood. Of all the tales concerning the dragon’s blood, the most well-known spoke of “Dragonmates.”
It was said that when one encountered one’s “Dragonmate,” both would instantly know that they were destined for one another. None could divide them.
It’s unclear how much truth there was to this, if any, but that was what the people believed.
He’s pulling the “Dragonmate” card right now?
All right: so she and Philip hadn’t been in mad, passionate love. But their union would still have been a favorable one. She’d trusted him. He was the only one, outside of her family, that seemed immune to the sprouting of the mushrooms.
She could feel her heart growing cold and hard against him now. The transformation was instant.
At the same time, anger began bubbling inside her.
How could he do this? After all the studying she’d done to learn how to act ladylike for him? All the hardships she’d been through. All the stress she’d endured. It was all for naught…
Even worse, she could feel the mushrooms getting ready to sprout.
He can’t be freaking serious!
A screw came undone somewhere in Agnes’s mind. She snapped.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, you know! It’s obvious you’re just doing this to try to legitimize your infidelity!”
Agnes finally let her smiling mask fully slip, heaving a disgusted sigh.
Philip blinked, processing Agnes’s remark.
Yes, he must be shocked. Agnes had always been so obedient and docile. But in reality, Agnes had also always been the type of girl to speak her mind when she really had something to say.
Yes, she was a count’s daughter. But she had her own goals in life. And so, she’d held her tongue all this time.
But there was no reason to hold back any longer.
“Mind your tongue! Is that how you speak to a member of the royal family, within whose veins runs the blood of the dragon?”
“All right, why didn’t you break off our engagement before things got to this point, then?”
“Because I knew you’d never agree, obviously.”
“You could’ve done me the courtesy of discussing it with me first! Given me some sort of warning!”
“You can hardly blame me. The mushrooms—”
“Don’t use the mushroom thing as an excuse! Just be honest. ‘We’re engaged, yes, but I’ve been screwing another woman. So now, I’d like to switch to her, please.’ That’s all you had to say. But go ahead! I’d be delighted to cut off an engagement to a snake of a man like you!”
“Your rudeness is entirely inappropriate. I’ve found my Dragonmate, damn it! You were just…just a fake. A fake mushroom—”
“Like I said, the mushrooms have nothing to do with this!”
Unable to disguise his annoyance any longer, Philip raised an eyebrow, casting his gaze over Agnes’s head.
“Guards. Throw this woman in the dungeons! She has insulted the king’s nephew. She clearly needs some time to cool off and think things through.”
The guards hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. They seemed unsure as to whether or not they should follow Philip’s orders.
Still, one could hardly blame them.
They were only present at the ball on security duty and thus understandably hesitant to get involved in something as serious as the breaking off of an official royal engagement.
Besides, the order was coming from Philip. He was a royal, yes. But not a very important one.
Ultimately, though, they couldn’t just ignore his order. Not when he kept playing the royal card in such a loud, obnoxious way.
What a shameful example of class privilege…
The guards reached out reluctantly to grab Agnes’s arms, but she evaded their grip, feeling quietly sorry for them.
“Get your meat hooks off me! If I’m to be sent to the dungeons, I’ll walk there myself. As for our engagement, I couldn’t care less! Call it off! But just let me ask one thing.”
“What? I won’t change my mind for anything, I’ll have you know! Our engagement is dead.”
“I don’t give a tiny rat’s arse about that! Make it official, in fact! As soon as humanly possible!”
“Then, what? What is it you want to ask me?”
Agnes scowled, staring right into Philip’s frowning gray eyes.
“If you care so much about Dragonmates, why’d you bother getting engaged to a ‘fake’ like me to begin with? And are you sure that girl standing there is the genuine article? I have to say, I don’t trust your shoddy judgment at all!”
Philip’s expression hardened instantly. He reached out and yanked one of the guard’s swords from its scabbard.
The sword glittered in the light. Beautiful.
Fine, go ahead. Cut me down.
That way, Agnes could go from being an adulterer’s jilted ex-fiancée to an adulterer’s ex-fiancée who he’d then threatened with murder.
Either way, everyone would end up taking her side. After all, she’d clearly been treated poorly for a member of the nobility.
Not only had Philip callously chosen to end their engagement at a royal ball, of all places, but on top of that, he’d drawn a sword on his poor betrothed, herself a daughter of the aristocracy.
Philip may have been royalty, yes (only just). But even he wouldn’t be able to exhibit this behavior without facing punishment. As long as Agnes didn’t do anything to damage the Lefort reputation, then it was all fine by her.
Yes, cut me down. But make it quick. Before the mushrooms sprout…
Agnes pressed her lips together tightly and glared right at Philip, trying to face fear head-on.
“What’s all the commotion about?”
A booming voice interrupted them.
It belonged to a handsome young man with Prussian-blue hair, who came shouldering his way through the crowd of interested onlookers.
He had the same dark gray eyes as Philip and wore a fine black frock coat embellished with gold embroidery. Both these features identified him as another member of the royal family.
Unlike feeble Philip, however, this young man emanated an aura of kingly chivalry and dignified manliness.
All of the royals boasted extreme good looks. But none more so than this young man. He’s kind of a knockout…
“Whatever are you thinking, Philip? Disturbing the peace of His Majesty’s ball? And pointing a sword at a lady?”
“Claude. This is none of your business.”